Chapter Two: The Ceremony of Silence
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Elián Reyes never imagined he would get married like this.
There were no petals on the floor.
No trembling "I love you"s at the altar.
No smile from his husband when the vows were read.
There were cameras.
There was a press wall.
There was a hand—Kairo's hand—gripping his wrist, guiding him down the aisle like he was a business contract, not a boy about to give away his whole life.
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The wedding was hosted in the Laurent estate's winter garden.
Ivory marble. Frozen orchids. Gold detailing on every corner.
It was beautiful, objectively.
But Elián had never felt so cold.
He wore a white suit that didn't belong to him. Too tight at the collar, too loose around the chest.
A stylist had scrubbed his face until it glowed and combed his soft, dark hair back until his curls lost their will.
Elián looked into the mirror that morning and didn't recognize the boy staring back.
"Don't cry,"
"Don't cry," one of the stylists had said gently.
"You'll ruin the foundation."
So Elián didn't cry.
Not even when his mother, dressed in borrowed lace and watery pride, kissed his cheek and whispered,
> "You're saving us, baby. He's rich. Just… be good to him. He might grow to love you."
Love?
Elián couldn't even imagine being looked at.
He'd never had a boyfriend. Never kissed anyone.
Now, he was going to sleep beside a man who couldn't stand the sight of him.
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Kairo arrived late.
On purpose.
The ceremony had already begun, soft music playing, guests whispering behind painted fans.
Then the doors opened, and in came the groom with a reputation, dressed in black silk and power.
He didn't greet anyone. Didn't smile.
His steps were precise. Slow. Almost threatening.
And beside him, not far behind, walked Lucien Vale—yes, he came.
He was laughing. Loud. Wearing all white like he was the bride.
People turned.
The cameras clicked like flies.
Elián stood frozen at the altar, trying not to pass out.
Kairo walked up and gave him one look—empty, glassy—and then turned to the priest.
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> "We are gathered here today…"
Elián couldn't breathe. The words blurred.
He felt a cold sweat on his back, the kind that made his suit stick to his skin.
Kairo never looked at him.
Not once during the vows.
Not even when Elián's voice trembled as he repeated,
> "I, Elián Reyes, take you, Kairo Laurent, to be my lawfully wedded husband…"
The ring was slid onto his finger by a servant, not by Kairo.
Even the kiss—God, the kiss—was a disaster.
The priest nodded. "You may kiss your—"
Kairo leaned in, didn't touch him, just let his lips brush against the corner of Elián's mouth like a punishment.
Then he whispered in his ear,
> "Smile for the cameras, pet. That's your job now."
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The reception was worse.
Lucien refused to sit down. He danced with everyone, drank twice his limit, and when he passed by Elián's table, he ran his fingers across Elián's shoulders and said with a fake pout,
> "How's married life, little lamb?"
Elián flinched.
Kairo didn't react.
Not until they were alone.
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Their wedding night was not in a honeymoon suite.
It was in a mansion bedroom—cold marble floors, untouched wine on the side table, a king-sized bed with two pillows spaced apart.
Elián stood awkwardly at the door, still in his wrinkled suit.
Kairo sat on the bed, phone in hand, tie undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His gaze was heavy.
"You can stop pretending now," Kairo said. "I know you're not innocent."
Elián blinked. "I—I'm not pretending anything—"
Kairo stood.
Elián stepped back.
"You think I don't know why you said yes?" Kairo's voice dropped. "You sold yourself. You're no different from Lucien—just quieter. Better packaging."
Elián's heart shattered.
"No, I—I did it for my family—"
Kairo didn't let him finish.
"You did it for money."
Elián lowered his head. "I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing," Kairo growled. "It's pathetic."
And then he did it.
He hit him.
Not hard—just a sharp slap to the side of Elián's face. Enough to make the boy stumble backward and gasp.
"Lucien saw you flinch. He thinks it's funny," Kairo said coldly. "Don't embarrass me in front of him again."
Elián held his cheek, silent.
Tears came now.
But only when Kairo turned his back and walked into the bathroom.
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That night, Elián slept on the far end of the bed, curled up, still wearing his wrinkled shirt.
Kairo didn't speak to him again.
Just turned off the lights.
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And so, Elián Reyes became a husband.
To a man who didn't want him.
In a house where he wasn't welcome.
Under a contract he couldn't break.
He cried quietly into the pillow and whispered the same thing over and over:
> "Just one year. Just survive one year."
He didn't know that fate had other plans.
And Kairo Laurent was about to lose everything…
Starting with Lucien.
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End of Chapter Two.
Next Chapter: The Cracks in Glass
Where Lucien makes a mistake that can't be hidden.
And Kairo begins to look at Elián… differently.